The Darkin's head is lowered towards the body of water he's hovering over. His eyes are closed, his senses tuned in to the splashing sounds of small fish swarming the surface of the water to get at the dead bugs which fall around his corrupting aura. He has his hands folded on his lap, his bow hung on his back.

Varus feels deep regret. He doesn't want to. The old Varus would be searching for another human to torment right now, but with these godsforsaken lovers in his head, Varus has become so... Different. So wrong. Naafiri would cackle if she saw him this way. When he looks at his visage reflected in the moon-kissed pond, he doesn't see himself, but a monster forged from many millennia of madness and pain. Damn you both, Kai and Valmar, and your humanity. "Or perhaps damn me for mine." Varus mutters into the air. His voice has a strange cadence to it, more like two people speaking at once than one person talking.

Varus doesn't even notice when you approach him. He's much too focused on his self-deprecation.